In the Wake Of
by Lizzy Rebel
Summary: [oneshot, HP angst] This is what Heath said to Priscilla


_Disclaimer:_ Nope, don't own it. Belongs to... those guys

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**In the Wake Of**

Heath knew he had to say it to her.

_Goodbye._

This one, little word shouldn't mean anything, shouldn't pain him to think of it, but it did. The two syllables were like daggers digging into the vulnerable spot on his back, leaving him paralyzed and numb.

His fingers felt bloated and fuzzy as he lowered them to touch her pale, still cheek. The deep red of her hair sprawled in messy tangles across her face, crimson on white silk. For a moment he was tempted to slip down into the covers beside her, to wrap his arms around her small frame and bury his face into her neck.

No. This weakness has gone on long enough. Cursing, biting his lips hard enough to pain himself, he climbed to his feet. His body, still cool from the chill that had come in on the wings of the night, stretched and he felt the _pop-pop_ of his joints as they snapped into action.

Only when he was fully dressed and completely steady in his decision did Heath allow himself to look down at her. She looked so peaceful there, curling into the warmth he had left, with a pillow tucked under her arms and her breathing even and controlled.

Taking a deep breath, steadying the sudden deep-in-the-bone ache, he knelt down beside her. She mumbled as he gathered her naked form into his arm, breathing onto her lips. "Priscilla," he said softly, not sure if he wanted her to remain sleeping or if he wanted her to open her deep, emerald green eyes.

"Mmm," she mumbled as she snuggled into his warmth, barely noting the rough texture of his clothes as they scarped against her skin. He normally wasn't dressed that earlier. "A few more minutes."

Heath lowered her to the ground and allowed her to curl into the sheet and drift into sleep again. It was weakness, letting her drift into sleep when he knew what had to be done, but it was a weakness he let himself indulge in for he knew there wouldn't be much indulging in the weeks, months, years to come.

The tent felt like it had suddenly lost all its oxygen. Feeling as if he would burst into a million fragments of the broken man the past week had transformed him into, he exited the tent, letting her sleep. It was selfish of him to think so, but he didn't think she would do much sleeping in the next few days.

Green grass, fresh from spring and still covered in the morning dew, rose up and cradled his booted feet. It was a tiny clearing he stood in, one that was surrounded by tall trees on all sides.

It was as if the gods had created this tiny paradise just for him and her. It was so isolated, so cut off from all other civilization, they had been able to pretend it was just the two of them.

They had forgotten about the outside world. The darkness had been defeated, shoved back for the years to come. Nergal was gone and the Black Fang had been disbanded. And Erk and Guy were both gone and everything was so far away.

With the heat of the sun beating down on his face, Heath approached the beast residing in the meadow only yards away. It jerked awake at the sound of his feet snapping twigs but when its red eyes rose to rest on him, its tense flank relaxed. This was master, there was no reason for the beast to worry.

"Hyperion," he greeted the Wyvern. The dragon descendent clicked his jaw against his tongue as Heath cupped his narrow face. "We'll be flying soon."

The green-skinned beast of legend cocked his head to one side. Heath was so tuned in with his partner in battle that he could almost hear the dragon's thoughts. _Why? Isn't your mate here?_

Very slowly, Heath raised his gloved fingers and weaved them through his light green hair—spackled with silver on one side—and answered the wyvern in a weak voice, "I was foolish to think I could keep her. I can't. I'm… I'm… nothing but an exiled Bern criminal and she's… she's a princess of Etruria."

_That_ was the one thing that had always intruded on this tiny seclude he and Priscilla had built for themselves the passed month. If he looked hard enough he could see the black towers of the castle. _Her_ castle. With a mother that missed her, a father that had armies searching for her. They couldn't stay hidden forever.

Heath didn't plan on hiding. Not anymore. He had allowed himself this month with her. But only this month.

He knew she would stay with him, go wherever he thought they should go, all for the love she claimed to have for him. But he knew, now matter how much she loved him or how long she followed him, that eventually she would come to resent him. He kept her from her family and he was not foolish enough to not know it pained her to go everyday without seeing them. He knew that she longed for them and sometimes even his embrace couldn't stop the yearning.

And Heath loved Priscilla and he could not stand to watch her deteriorate from the inside out. He would rather die.

"What do I have to offer her?" he wondered absently, stroking Hyperion's scaly jaw. "I'm just a Bern criminal."

But he had hopes, and ambitions. Someday he would return and on that day he would have to something to offer her. Not just a constant moving around, running from people who would see him hanged. No, he would give her _something_. Stability, security, protection. All those things he couldn't give her now.

"Let's saddle up, partner," he said as a bitter taste clogged the back of his throat. Hyperion licked Heath's cheek with his big, fuzzy tongue and Heath didn't bother to wipe away the saliva.

By the time he was done with the preparations for the flight, he heard her approached. His fingers tightened on Hyperion's reins and he did not look at her.

"Heath?" He heard the smile in her voice as she approached him, just as he heard it fade away. "What are you… doing?"

He did turn to face her than, looking into her sparkling eyes. There was confusion there, a mixture of fear and bewilderment. And Heath knew, very soon, there would be sadness as well. It killed him to know that he would put it there.

"Priscilla…" he answered. _Goodbye_ stuck in his throat. He couldn't make the words come out. Instead he found himself babbling, "I'll come back one day, I _promise_. One day I'll have everything you need from me. Until then, Priscilla… I have to go… I really do. I don't want to but I do have to go. For us. Remember that, everything I'm doing is for us."

She was shaking her head already, big tears clinging to her dark lashes. Heath hoped she wouldn't let them fall because if they did he didn't think he could survive leaving her than.

"Heath… Heath…_ no_," she cried softly almost backing away. But it was as if her legs were rooted to the ground. She just continued to stare at him, her lips trembling. "_No_." Her head gave another vicious shake, cascading hair flaming over her eyes.

He gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair, letting her trembling head rest against his chest. There wasn't enough strength in him to watch her as she wept. "I _will_ come back, Priscilla. I promise. I love you. Don't forget that."

"Please don't go," she sniffled against his chest. "Heath, I love you so much. Nothing matters. Please, just stay."

"It does matter. It does." He pulled away and cupped her face, pressing kisses to her cheeks and eyes and her lips, all covered with her salty tears.

She clung to him, trying to keep him on the ground. Heath knew how easy it would be to sink into her arms and forget about the world again. But the world was pressing in on him and her and soon they would be separated by force.

As she sunk to her knees in the soft grass, Heath left her and made his way torpidly to Hyperion, who had watched the exchange with quiet, considering eyes. He saddled up and dared to glance down at her.

"Priscilla…" he began but really had nothing to say her to. Slowly, he pressed his heels against Hyperion's flank. The giant wings spread and a strong gust of wind had the grass rippling like the waves of the ocean.

Then they were in the sky, hovering within the clouds. Priscilla's red hair stood starkly out against the green and he knew the picture of her kneeling defeated on the grass would stay with him forever. It would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Until he could hold her back in his arms.

As he flew over the land he could see the tiny black riders from Etruria. He had contacted Priscilla's family last night and her ecstatic father had ordered the knights to be sent to retrieve her. Heath would not have left her alone, unguarded and unprotected.

He turned his head and looked down at the meadow that was still in view. "Priscilla. I love you. And I will return to you. Maybe." He knew she couldn't hear him anymore but he knew she would sense the words. They were connected, their hearts twined together. He let her hear his words through that connection they shared, the opened door between their hearts.

_I will return to you. Maybe._

This is what Heath said to Priscilla.

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**Word Count:** 1640

**Time:** thirty minutes

**Beta:** none

**Couples:** Heath/Priscilla

**Genre:** angst /slight romance

**Status:** one-shot (complete)

**Author:** Lizzy Rebel

**Characters/style:** Heath/Priscilla angst piece

**Author's Notes:** Just because I can. Oh, and because I had the urge to write a drabble. But it's a little long to be a drabble, _non_? Somehow, I can never make them short enough. Oh well.


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